


hands of above to lean on

by monanotlisa



Category: Fringe
Genre: Authority Figures, Drugs, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-09
Updated: 2011-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 05:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/pseuds/monanotlisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[set after 3x19 "Lysergic Acid Diethylamide"]</p><p>On the third day, Broyles seeks Astrid out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hands of above to lean on

On the third day, Broyles seeks her out.

Astrid lets out a soft breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. "Sir," she says and doesn't make it a question.

He holds her eyes. "Agent Farnsworth. About the retrieval of Agent Dunham." Which clearly is one way of putting it -- into the official FBI report. "I apologize for having shouldered you with the responsibility of taking care of me in addition to overseeing the experiment."

"Oh, no" she says, and she can't quite keep the emotion out of her voice; she's just not like that, "it wasn't an imposition, it was --" more like a revelation. His large, elegant hand wrapped in hers. The stunning sweetness of his smile. Such a powerful personality at all times; to have all of it directed at her? "a nice thing, really." Astrid closes her eyes and internalizes her wince. Really, Miss Farnsworth? 'A nice thing?'

His voice is soft, makes her open them again. "Well, I appreciate it anyway, appreciate that you went out of your way to make me...comfortable."

Comfort is what she aimed for (what she aims for all the time with them, because she loves them and they need it), but it's not all he felt, then. She remembers his vision, she's read the report. Astrid doesn't need drugs to know that perceiving -- beyond mere mortality -- your actual death is not an experience a human being wants to make. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"I am, thanks to you. Farnsworth --" and now he hesitates; in all her time with Philipp Broyles, she's never once seen him do that. "It was very intense, and I have since read up on the substance. You're probably what kept me sane." Now his lips actually curl into a smile she's never seen before either: gentle and self-deprecating, making something in her chest feel tight and too-loose at once. "Not that it seemed so at the moment, I imagine."

He looks down at the table. "Is it safe to touch this?"

She almost laughs, giddy for no reason, no reason at all. "Yes, yes the table surface is fine."

When Broyles puts his hands down and leans in, he's carefully leaving the table between them. But the distance to her across to the side where she's standing is much smaller now. "I won't forget this."

She meets his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he isn't just talking about her doing her job.

"Me neither," she says and doesn't look away.

And the smile he gives her is almost as luminous as the one that very day, if less innocent than promising.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Fringe Kinkmeme](http://fringe-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org), with love.


End file.
